Desperado
by Natchez
Summary: Not a songfic, really, but does reference the song. Missing scene from "Alabama Sugar."


**A/N:** Missing scene from "Alabama Sugar." If you want to know how it all turns out, please see the story on FF. Takes place just after chapter 3, "Love is a Battlefield." Hope you enjoy and please, R&R!

_"Desperado" written by Don Henley and Glenn Frey, Warner Music Group._

_Disclaimer: I do not own or operate "The Closer." Or "Desperado."  
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><p><strong>Desperado<strong>

Lieutenant Andy Flynn was irritated. He was looking for Detective Kelly Hargrove and couldn't seem to locate her. He tried her cell – nothing. She had taken a phone message for him and for the life of him, he couldn't read part of it. Her handwriting was worse than Provenza's! He could read the number, but it didn't ring a bell, so he wanted to know who it was before he returned the call.

He looked into Brenda's office. "Hey Chief, have you seen Detective Hargrove? I can't read her writing on this message."

Brenda looked up from her paperwork. "No, Lieutenant, I can't say that I have." She looked at the clock. "No, wait. It's her lunch break and sometimes she walks on the treadmill during lunch. You could check there."

"Thanks, Chief," Andy said and left the office.

Andy was slightly annoyed he had to go down three floors to find the detective, but he needed to know what that message said. He got down to the gym area. The room with the exercise machines was glassed in, but he could still hear the music someone had playing through the sound system from their iPod or mp3 player. Sounded like the Eagles, unless he missed his guess.

He opened the door and looked in. He saw Kelly walking on the treadmill and stopped short. As practical as always, she wore capris and tennis shoes, but what made Andy's eyes widen was that she wore only a black sports bra. No T-shirt. Now granted, the bra covered up a _lot_ more than some tank tops he had seen on the L.A. streets, but it was the least he had seen Kelly wear. Normally, she never wore anything that showed her curves, but seeing her in that bra, Andy could appreciate her attractive bustline - and he certainly appreciated it. He knew the California sun had surely tanned her face a bit, along with her arms, but he could see the skin on her back and midriff was, well, not porcelain white - it was too pink for that - but certainly very fair. The term "magnolia skin" crossed his mind.

Andy had been aware of Kelly Hargrove as a woman for some time, and Provenza had opined that Andy even had a "case" for her. Which he had admitted to himself. But in the few weeks she had been here, Andy had rarely seen her completely unaware of someone else and being totally herself. But there she was on that treadmill, and even enjoying her workout. The music was thumping and what tickled Andy was watching her reaction to it. She was mouthing the lyrics and even pantomimed some of the prominent drumrolls. Andy had no musical talent whatsoever, but his brother played bass in a band and Andy knew when he saw someone who really loved music. Obviously, Kelly did.

Then the music slowed and she slowed her walking speed accordingly. The sounds of a piano came over the speakers and he watched as she wiped her forehead and blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Oh, you're a hard one, but I know that you've got your reasons. These things that are pleasing have hurt you somehow...," came the song "Desperado" over the sound system, and Andy had, perhaps unwisely, moved into her peripheral vision.

Kelly raised her head and obviously, catching something from the corner of her eye, turned her head to see Andy standing, watching her, _in just her bra_! Oh, dear Lord, how humiliating! And it would be just in time for the lyrics, "You better let somebody love you before it's too late." She turned her head and continued her cool-down. Andy stayed, though.

He caught the look she gave him, and almost regretted coming in search of her. Her expression was one of embarrassment, and a strange wariness he didn't understand. To ease the situation, he turned to grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and a towel for her. She stopped the music and the treadmill and stepped off.

"Hi, Kelly. Here ya go," he said, handing her the items.

"Thanks," she said, still with that wary look. She dabbed at her forehead and face and then draped the towel around her so it covered her front. She took a drink of water. "What brings you down here?" she asked, keeping Andy very much at arm's length.

"Um, this message you took. I can't read it." He handed her the paper.

She looked at it. "Sorry about that. It's from the guy your landlord hired to fix your air-conditioning."

"Oh, all right. I'll call him. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Strangely, the look in Andy's dark eyes wasn't one of revulsion at seeing her in just her bra. In fact, it was just the opposite. He was looking at her as though he found her _attractive_. Which was impossible, of course. Why would a man who looked like Andy Flynn be remotely interested in her? Although, there was that moment in the murder room when she thought he might kiss her... But still. No use getting her hopes up for what was certainly a pipe dream. She'd never see that one come true. "I'll see you upstairs," she said, dropping her head and going towards the women's locker room.

Now what had prompted _that_ reaction, Andy wondered. He puzzled over it, and when he got in the elevator, it hit him: she was expecting another reaction entirely. That's why she wrapped up like that in her towel. She was expecting him to be disgusted by the way she looked. Wow. But why? So she had curves. So what? Not like he could actually _see_ anything. He couldn't figure out why she should be so embarrassed. But she obviously was.

When she got back into the murder room, she wouldn't meet his eyes, and kept her head down pretty much the rest of the day. Poor thing, she was miserable and Andy knew he was the reason. How could he fix this? As the room emptied out for the evening, he approached her desk.

"Hey Kelly. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable this afternoon. I didn't mean to," he said.

She gave him a half-smile and quickly averted her eyes. That wasn't at all like her. Generally, Kelly Hargrove looked you in the eye as you talked to her. "It's all right. I'm just aggravated with myself. Normally, at that time of the day, no one comes in, and a T-shirt gets too hot. So I just... I'm just annoyed at myself. I'm not mad at you or anything."

"O.K. That's good. Well, good night."

She nodded at him. "Good night, Andy." He left the room, but turned around. He could see her, but she couldn't see him. He watched her put a hand over her mouth and close her eyes. He couldn't see the tears on her face, but knew they were there. God, he felt like a total heel. But he felt that saying anything else might make her feel worse. So he'd wait and try to patch things up when she was in a better frame of mind. He went quickly down the hall, knowing she wouldn't want to run into him. And the final line of that song kept playing in his ears, _"You better let somebody love you, before it's too late."_


End file.
